2 Zeng Wei
On a tempestuous night, under a sky roiling with dark clouds and lashed by rain, a woman raced through the howling wind. Clutched tightly in her arms was a newborn baby, wrapped in swaddling cloth and sheltered beneath her tattered, rain-soaked cloak.
Her face was obscured by the deep hood she wore, and she moved with haste, her footsteps quick and resolute.
She was headed toward a place known all too well by those in dire straits—the orphanage. Her heart, heavy with aching sorrow and the weight of an impossible decision, propelled her forward.
For she knew that within those humble walls, her child might find shelter, care, and a chance at life.
The black hood and tunic she donned were her meager attempts to conceal her identity, to shroud her actions in secrecy. She bore the burden of a mother's love, the weight of responsibility, even as she veiled herself in darkness.
It was an act she deemed necessary, for she had nothing else to offer her precious child.
Arriving at the orphanage, she paused for a moment, catching her breath. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes, mirroring the tears that had silently slipped from her eyes.
In her trembling hands, she clutched a pendant—a small, silver emblem upon which her child's name had been lovingly engraved.
"Zeng Wei," she whispered to herself, the words carried away by the wind. It was a name chosen with purpose and hope, a name that meant "greatness." She had bestowed it upon her infant son, an earnest wish that he might forge a legacy, rise above adversity, and one day stand as a beacon of light in a world that could be so unforgiving.
With trembling fingers, she affixed the pendant around the baby's tiny neck, ensuring that it lay close to his heart. She pressed a tender, lingering kiss upon his forehead, tears mingling with the rain on his delicate skin.
In that fleeting moment, she poured all the love, dreams, and aspirations she held for him into her child's being.
Then, with a heavy heart and a resolve born of necessity, she placed the infant gently upon the doorstep of the orphanage. She stepped back, her gaze lingering upon her son's vulnerable form for a moment longer, before she retreated into the shadowy night, leaving behind the child who bore the weight of a name and the promise of greatness.
As she disappeared into the obscurity of the stormy night, the infant Zeng Wei remained, a silent sentinel in the dark, cradled by the winds of fate and the hope of a mother who had sacrificed everything for his chance at a future.
...
The relentless rain poured down, the drizzling of water droplets drumming upon the earth. Young Zeng Wei, swathed in layers of thick, protective fabric, felt the chill seeping into his tiny frame.
And so, he cried—a plaintive, wailing cry that seemed to echo through the storm-swept night.
Inside the orphanage, Sister Lee Li, a woman of kindness and unwavering dedication, paused in her duties. She turned her head, straining to listen through the cacophony of rain.
There it was, unmistakable amidst the tempest—a baby's cry, raw and full of need.
With swift determination, Sister Lee Li pushed open the heavy wooden door and ventured into the stormy darkness. Her eyes, accustomed to the dimly lit interior, blinked against the harsh contrast of the rain-soaked night.
And then, she saw it—a cradle wrapped in protective layers of cloth, its occupant a fragile soul shivering in the cold.
She bent down, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the world's cruelties, for she was no stranger to such acts of abandonment. With gentle hands, she scooped the child into her arms, cradling him close to her chest.
The pendant around his neck caught her eye, and she whispered his name softly, "Zeng Wei."
Tears welled in Sister Lee Li's eyes as she gazed upon the child, his small form a testament to a mother's sacrifice and love. She cradled him, her soothing voice a lullaby amidst the relentless rain.
"Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the master, one for the dame and one for the little boy.
Who lives down the lane."
Slowly, Zeng Wei's cries ebbed, replaced by the peaceful embrace of slumber.
With the sleeping child in her arms, Sister Lee Li made her way back into the warmth of the orphanage, closing the door behind her to shield the sanctuary from the storm. She prepared a bottle of milk, nourishment for the newest member of their family.
As she sat with Zeng Wei in her arms, her heart warmed not only by the infant's presence but also by the innocence of the children who resided in the orphanage. One of them, a bright-eyed youngster, approached Sister Lee Li with curiosity dancing in their eyes.
"Sister Lee Li," the child asked excitedly, "is this our new sibling?"
A tender smile graced Sister Lee Li's lips as she nodded.
"Yes, my dear. This is Zeng Wei."
The news spread like wildfire among the children, and they gathered around, their voices bubbling with excitement and chatter. Their innocent banter filled the room, creating a cacophony of joy that, for a brief moment, eclipsed the tempest outside.
But as the children's voices rose in animated conversation, Zeng Wei stirred in his slumber, a whimper escaping his lips. Panic seized the young ones, and they hushed their chatter, desperately trying to soothe the newborn.
In that cold night, within the walls of a humble orphanage, there was a different kind of warmth—one born of compassion, shared burdens, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. And it was in that warmth that Zeng Wei, the child who bore the weight of a name, found his first home.
...
As the years flowed like a steady river, life within the orphanage maintained a semblance of vibrant normalcy, in stark contrast to the destiny of its parentless inhabitants. Zeng Wei, now a lively five-year-old, had grown into an unruly child.
He possessed an unquenchable thirst for challenge, a propensity to engage in playful skirmishes with his fellow siblings. What set him apart was his considerable size—a stature that belied his tender age, standing tall at an astonishing 5 feet.
Yet, beneath the chaos of their raucous battles, beneath the laughter that echoed through the corridors, lay a bond stronger than any blood relation could forge. They were more than just orphans; they were a family, and their shared experiences wove the fabric of their lives together.
In the shadow of adversity, they encountered moments both somber and joyful, etching memories into the canvas of their existence. These memories, like the indomitable spirits within them, would guide their steps into an uncertain future—a proof to the indelible influence of childhood.
Amidst the mayhem, only Sister Lee Li possessed the gentle authority to rein in Zeng Wei's spirited nature. Her words carried weight, and Zeng Wei, despite his occasional waywardness, yielded to her whim and kindness.
In her, he found not just a caregiver but a mother figure.
Yet, Zeng Wei was not only brought troubles into the orphanage. He also played his role in the orphanage's daily operations, from washing dishes and sweeping floors to engaging with the younger children.
The younger children loved him as he was funny and always had some pranks he performed to his older siblings.
In the passage of time, it must be noted that some of Zeng Wei's siblings had embarked on journeys beyond the orphanage's walls to become Spirit Master. Each departure, while bittersweet, marked a step toward their own destinies.
They had awaken their martial spirits when they were six years old. And as their innate soul power ranging from four to seven— which was quite an extraordinary feat for the commoners, they were offered to join academies that was sponsored by the Spirit Hall.
And now, the sands of fate whispered a prelude to Zeng Wei's own journey—a journey that would soon lead him to the hallowed halls of Spirit Hall. In a mere year, he too would undergo the rite of martial spirit awakening, an event that will be a life changing moment not only for him but the whole Douluo Planet.
...
On an ordinary day within the confines of the orphanage, Zeng Wei found himself besieged by an overwhelming sense of boredom. He used a myriad of words to describe his current state: bored, dreary, dull, ho-hum, humdrum, and plodding, to name a few.
It seemed as though the hours dragged on endlessly, leaving him yearning for something more.
"Another day, another boring day. Sigh," he whined.
To alleviate the monotony, Zeng Wei had perched himself precariously on a branch of a tree beside the orphanage. A peculiar notion had led him there—word of mouth from an adult that hanging could enhance one's height.
And so, in his youthful naivety, he had taken to this peculiar habit, swinging from the branch with all the gravity-defying determination a six-year-old could muster.
Sister Lee Li's voice broke through his boredom-induced reverie, calling him back to reality. With the agility of youth, he disentangled himself from the tree branch and sprinted toward her.
Eager and ever willing to help, he inquired about the task at hand.
"I'm coming Sister Lee Li! What can I help today?" he shouted.
Sister Lee Li, her eyes sparkling with affection, tasked him with transporting a wheelbarrow laden with firewood to the rear of the orphanage.
"My dear, can you help me transport this to the our backyard?"
Having completed the job with diligence, he turned to her with a bold request—could he be the one to chop the firewood today? His reasoning, as he flexed his non-existent biceps, was that he was strong enough for the task.
"I'm strong Sister, look at this!"
Sister Lee Li couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. She contemplated for a moment, recognizing that his strength rival that of his older siblings and he had indeed proven himself capable on occasion.
She decided to grant his wish, with the caveat that she would closely oversee his safety. With a nod of approval, she acknowledged his determination.
And so, Zeng Wei set to work, chopping the firewood with gusto. One piece after another, he labored diligently. Though the quantity of firewood was not particularly substantial, he applied himself to the task with unwavering determination, showing his strong-willed nature.
Once the firewood was ready, Sister Lee Li rallied the children to join in the culinary preparations. Together, they embarked on the shared adventure of cooking.
After finished playing together in the kitchen they went bathing together, their voices mingling in a cacophony of youthful exuberance. Although, the bathroom was quite small but they were just having fun throwing soaps and playing with the bubbles.
Afterward, they sat down to a meal, their interactions a lively medley of chattering, bickering, food-fights, and good-natured banter. It was a day that might have seemed mundane to an outsider, but to Zeng Wei and his companions, it was a joy found in the simplicity of shared moments.
Despite the boredom that had initially plagued him, it had turned out to be a day filled with the warmth of his family.
